


Tale as old as time

by lettersinpetals



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Background Relationships, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Fluff, Haikyuu!! Manga Spoilers, Happy Ending, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mutual Pining, Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, Pro Volleyball Player Miya Atsumu, Pro Volleyball Player Sakusa Kiyoomi, Slow Burn, Social Media, atsumu is shameless sorry, non-consensual posting of photos on social media
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:41:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25525333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lettersinpetals/pseuds/lettersinpetals
Summary: “Sakusa, after your latest panel, fans want to know: Are you a germaphobe?”The whole team falls silent, unsure if that’s a safe topic to breach. He sees Meian raise a hand, ready to interrupt, but that would be even more mortifying. He hates being patronized. Just because he has a condition doesn’t mean he can’t function just as well, or even better, than others. It’s been a sticking point since childhood.“Yes,” Kiyoomi answers bluntly. “But it’s just a symptom of my OCD.”“Whoa, what?” For once, Atsumu is stumped.--This is the story of how two flawed people fall in love, and despite their rough edges, find their way to each other.
Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi
Comments: 197
Kudos: 2341
Collections: Haikyuu, SakuAtsu Fics for Midterm Procrastination, ~SakuAtsu~





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This story is complete, but I'll be staggering the posting of chapters as I read and reread and edit the rest of it. The idiot boys are softer here than how I've previously written them, so I hope I didn't make them too OOC. (For me that's just growth, though.) Also, here's your final warning, I totally project my thirst for Miya Atsumu. Enjoy!

It is a well-established fact that Miya Atsumu is a jerk.

The whole Spring Interhigh gymnasium witnessed it when he glared at two girls in the audience who dared cheer for him while he was serving. The whole All-Japan Youth Camp realized it when he gave that saccharine sweet and totally fake smile to Kageyama Tobio and called him a “goody two-shoes.”

Miya Atsumu smiles easily but insincerely. He compliments and insults people with ease. He goes from touting a devil-may-care attitude to an almost cold intensity in a blink of an eye.

Sakusa Kiyoomi never quite developed the fascination that many hold for him. His existence was the only thorn in Kiyoomi’s side when he signed with the MSBY Black Jackals.

Kiyoomi watches Atsumu as he jokes and teases with their newest recruit, Hinata Shouyou, Karasuno’s big star who fell off the map after high school. Atsumu likes to fool people into thinking he’s charming and friendly, but Kiyoomi knows that’s not all there is to him. He’s caught the dispassionate and calculating glances he threw Hinata’s way, like he was figuring out the best way to pick him apart and find out what makes him tick.

As if feeling his stare, Atsumu turns his head and meets his gaze. They look at each other for a moment before looking away.

\--

Maybe things would be different between him and Atsumu if not for that disastrous encounter after Kiyoomi’s first official practice with the team.

The high from playing volleyball was starting to fade off, letting him feel just how filthy he was. He felt the familiar urge to wash his hands. He stood frozen by his locker, wondering if the showers were clean, feeling high-strung after having to socialize with so many loud strangers. With more exposure to them, it would get better, but he wasn’t there yet.

So it didn’t help when Atsumu slapped a hand on his shoulder and gripped it in greeting. The setter barely got out a “Yo—” out before Kiyoomi was jerking back, shoving the hand away from him with his forearm.

Kiyoomi glared at him. “Back away from me.”

Atsumu looked stunned for a second before his features rearranged into a scowl. “Jeez, alright. No need to be so prickly.” He stalked off, shoulders stiff.

It’s been pretty frosty between them since then. It wasn’t that they hated each other. They just recognized each other as jerks they’d rather not deal with. So long as it didn’t affect their performance on the court, Kiyoomi didn’t see a problem with it.

Fortunately — or unfortunately — they did work well together on the court. Atsumu’s sets were perfect to hit, and the sound the ball makes when Kiyoomi slams it to the ground with a spin is extremely satisfying. Kiyoomi doesn’t get exclamations of “nice kill,” or any other praise that Atsumu heaps on the other spikers — instead they exchange raised brows and smirks.

It feels like some kind of war.


	2. Chapter 2

This is probably the best game of volleyball Kiyoomi ever played in his life.

He has never been a particularly emotional person, but he couldn’t help the rush of quiet awe and burning passion as he and his teammates face off against the Schweiden Adlers.

To be on the court among some of the country’s best players, playing with them and against them, was an honor. When he manages to cleanly bump Ushijima Wakatoshi’s lethal jump serve, he thinks, _This is what I’m here for._

Everything he practiced and worked hard for boils down to these precious moments of satisfaction.

But it is Atumu’s devastating serving streak that burns itself into Kiyoomi’s brain.

It’s like watching a monster shed its skin, showing everything ugly and beautiful underneath. All his fronts melt away, revealing an almost terrifying intensity. Atsumu blows the entire stadium away with his deadly serves, scoring service ace after service ace. And the way he laughs wildly and throws his arms wide open to accept the adoration...it’s really something else.

Miya Atsumu was born for this. There under the pale lights of the court, he has never shined brighter.

Kiyoomi wonders if he was wrong about Atsumu, or if he just sees him better than anyone else.

\--

Once they arrive back in Tokyo, the team insists on going on a celebratory night out.

Still high from the game, Kiyoomi decides this was something he could handle. He liked his team members. They were simply too much for him sometimes. He couldn’t be in a further wavelength from them. But by now they have a vague idea of his boundaries, so they weren’t as invasive.

He agrees to go.

Half an hour in, he was regretting it.

Hinata was drunk. He was a happy, energetic, touchy-feely drunk. Kiyoomi sat the furthest he could away from him, but he could still hear everything he was saying.

“And Atsumu-san went bam! And bam again! He was so cool!”

The man in question had gone to the bar to get a drink. He’d be disappointed if he knew he was being praised like this and he missed it.

Inunaki teases, “Sounds like you have a crush, Shouyou-kun.”

“Uwah?!” Hinata flushes. “No! I mean...I might like someone else? For some time now? I don’t know what’s up with that yet, I just got back...but Atsumu-san is really attractive, though.”

Bokuto chortles. “Everyone says that!”

“Yo, Hinata, as your initiation, I dare you to kiss that jerk,” Inunaka smirks and Hinata splutters. “Just go up to him and smack one on him.”

“He probably wouldn’t mind!” Bokuto says excitedly.

Meian just sighs.

In an urgent voice, Inunaka says, “He’s coming, he’s coming. Hurry, Hinata, it’s all in good fun! You learned to have some fun in Brazil, didn’t you?”

Sure enough, Atsumu was making his way across the dance floor towards their table, a drink in one hand. He twists and turns his body to avoid the wriggling bodies with a kind of grace that made him look untouchable. Kiyoomi feels a brief flash of envy. Jerks shouldn’t look so good just by existing.

As he nears the table, Atsumu goes to say something likely disgusting, but suddenly Hinata pops right in front of him. They all stop breathing as he plants a big one right on Atsumu’s lips.

Atsumu stills, the hand holding the glass hovering at his side, and his eyes fly wide open. Kiyoomi can see the moment his confusion turns into “Okay, whatever,” and he feels something ugly build in his gut when he gamely kisses Hinata back.

Only to feel his body lock in place when Atsumu raises his eyes and look straight at him.

After another moment, Atsumu pulls away from Hinata, his free hand gently pushing the shorter boy’s shoulder back. He smirks. “Had too much to drink, Shouyou-kun?”

“Inunaki-san said it was my initiation!” Hinata’s voice is just the tiniest bit breathless.

“Inunaki! How could you corrupt the team’s baby like this?” Atsumu gasps, as he shoves Hinata back into his chair, and settles back into his seat.

The rest of the team seem to be in shock.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it, Shouyou-kun, holy crap,” Inunaki says. He raises his beer. “To Ninja Shouyou!”

He gets a smattering of “To Ninja Shouyou” right back, but Kiyoomi keeps his lips shut and his gaze averted. He pretends to be interested at the neon sign at the bar and ignores what is fast becoming a familiar stare at the side of his face.

“Saw you lookin’ a while ago,” a voice suddenly close to him drawls.

Kiyoomi stiffens. “We were all looking. It was a dare.”

“How come they didn’t initiate you, too? You’re relatively a new recruit after all.”

Turning his head to glare at Atsumu, he says “If that’s an invitation, I’m saying no.”

“Aww, why not? Haven’t you ever kissed anyone before?”

Kiyoomi purses his lips together, and stews.

“Oh shit! Really? Why not?” Atsumu sounds like he really wants to know, like it was inconceivable that a person hasn’t kissed anyone at their age. _Was it?_

He doesn’t like how Atsumu saw through him like that. He feels a creeping anxiety crawl up his chest.

Atsumu keeps talking. “Guess no one could crack that stiff exterior, huh?”

The legs of his chair make a grating sound when he stands up. Kiyoomi addresses the table. “I’m going back to the apartment, now. Goodnight.”

He doesn’t look back as he leaves, and ignores Bokuto’s “Holy shit, Tsum-Tsum, what did you do?”

Fucking Miya Atsumu.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter on Wednesday!


	3. Chapter 3

The season flies by. The months become a blur of training and volleyball games, punctuated with the high of winning and the bitter taste of losing. And always present is the unforgiving cold pressing against his face as the winter settles around them like a wet blanket.

By the time they emerge as the V. League champions at the end of January, the temperature is warmer but they have another month of winter to deal with — and some public appearances and fan events, to his quiet horror.

The Black Jackals have amassed quite a large following this season, thanks to Hinata. But Kiyoomi knew perfectly well that a ton of those girls were screaming Atsumu’s name at the stands.

Today, they’re attending a press conference-slash-fan meet where they’ll talk about their big win. Kiyoomi just knows nothing good can come out of that, but he isn’t in a position to complain.

He is proven right in what is probably the worst possible way ever.

Now, Kiyoomi is a good athlete in his own right — exceptional, even. But he’s already tense about being in a godforsaken panel in front of fans and the press. The room is rather small for the crowd they let in; everything feels cramped, and the camera lights shining perpetually on their faces are not helping him any. All he can think is that they should have let him wear a mask.

So he can’t be faulted that he doesn’t notice until too late that Hinata has elbowed his can of soda straight into Kiyoomi’s lap.

If it landed, it would have spilled all over his pants. But it didn’t land. Because Atsumu, who sat on Kiyoomi’s other side, jerked sideways to intercept it so it hit his wrist instead. The can clatters into the space between Kiyoomi and Hinata, the loud clang setting off something in Kiyoomi’s brain. He stills.

He tries not to think of the sticky liquid that splashed on his sneakers and is now forming a puddle by his feet. But he’s failing. It was going to be dirty, and muddy, and _sticky_. The ringing in his ears gets louder.

Then there’s a tight grip around his wrist, the heat of it radiating through his long sleeves. Atsumu’s face swims into his line of sight. He is out of his chair and leaning over Kiyoomi, his body serving as a barrier.

Dimly, he starts to register that Hinata is flitting around him, spouting off apology after apology. It distresses him even further.

“It’s fine, Shouyou-kun!” Atsumu says loudly as he straightens, effortlessly drawing all the attention to him. His grip on Kiyoomi’s wrist tightens. It’s grounding. “I’m gonna have to clean up in the washroom, though. You kids behave without me! Omi-kun, c’mon let’s get you cleaned up, too.”

Kiyoomi is starting to drift, a common side-effect of an episode. He’s distantly aware of Atsumu tugging him away. He doesn’t know how much time passes before they arrive in the restroom. It looks clean, thankfully.

Robotically, he makes his way to the sink, slams his hand against the soap dispenser, turns the faucet on, and starts lathering his hands. He counts to 20, and rinses. Then he repeats it. He doesn’t know how many times.

After an indeterminate amount of time passes, awareness trickles back in. His fingers were pruney and slightly shaky. He stops. Rinses his hands one more time and turns off the faucet.

When he lifts his face, he catches Atsumu’s gaze through the mirror. He had honestly forgotten he was there.

Ignoring him for now, Kiyoomi digs into his pocket for a handkerchief he always carries with him. He wipes his hands, folds the handkerchief with the wet parts inside, then tucks it back in.

Then he looks back at Atsumu through the mirror again, unsure of what to do next.

“Not gonna clean your shoes?” Atsumu asks from where he was leaning against the wall, watching him.

Kiyoomi doesn’t dare look down at them. “I don’t want to touch it.” It feels like admitting a weakness. A part of him flares in anger at his vulnerability.

“I’ll do it.”

A few minutes later, Kiyoomi is sitting on the sink countertop they had wiped down, socked feet lightly swinging.

He watches Atsumu run the soles of his sneakers under the tap water, and wonders how exactly they got here. They aren’t exactly friends.

“Why did you do that?”

Atsumu shrugs. “Dunno. My body just moved.”

“I meant after that.” _Here. Right now. Why are you doing this?_

“Well, I wasn’t just going to let you have a meltdown in front of everyone, Omi-kun. Give me some credit.”

He considers this. Then he pries his jaws open and says, “Thank you, then.”

Atsumu turns off the faucet, and pats the shoes dry. Then, he honest-to-god helps Kiyoomi put his sneakers back on so he wouldn’t have to touch them.

Something about the way Atsumu carefully ties his shoelaces warms something inside him. Atsumu was a big fat jerk, but he supposes he has his moments.

When there is no longer any reason to keep hiding in the restroom, Kiyoomi says, “I want to go back, but I.” He swallows. “I need a mask.”

“Alright,” Atsumu says without missing a beat. “There’s a pharmacy nearby.”

When they return, mask firmly on Kiyoomi’s face, the panel isn’t over yet. He couldn’t help but notice that everything is spotless again. They are greeted with cheers as they sit back down, but he ignores them. He ignores the spotlight and the cameras and the screaming fans.

From the corner of his eye, he studies the sharp profile of Miya Atsumu and wonders.

\--

Some of the coldness between him and Atsumu has thawed a bit since that day. Something the latter capitalized on because now he has a new nickname for Kiyoomi.

“Omi-Omi!” Atsumu calls, jogging up from behind him as he was just about to enter the Black Jackals’ apartment building. He looks like he just finished a workout or a run. 

Kiyoomi grits his teeth and reminds himself that maiming a teammate would impact his career negatively. “What,” he snaps instead.

“Did you know we’re now Japan’s hottest couple?”

“ _What_?”

“Well, no, but people want it to happen. Have you checked Twitter?”

“No.”

“You might want to get around to that before our interview this Friday.” A smirk was dancing on Atsumu’s lips.

“Whatever,” he says tiredly. But later, when he’s settled back in his room with his purchases from a nearby konbini, he pulls up the social media app and instantly wants to hide under his sheets.

After a few moments of feeling sorry for himself, he starts scrolling through the viral #SakuAtsu hashtag. From what he could put together, the whole thing was the fault of one Bokuto Koutarou.

Bokuto had posted a video on his TikTok; this was nothing special. He and Hinata have been obsessed with that app, and they were always shoving their phones on the rest of the team’s faces.Sometimes when they were feeling charitable and playful, Barnes, Thomas, Meian, and Inunaki would gamely cooperate in creating videos. Kiyoomi largely ignored them, and Atsumu of course took every chance to show off like a peacock.

It’s strange that of all things it was this particular video that is making the rounds online, after a Twitter user reposted it from Bokuto’s TikTok account.

The Black Jackals were hanging out by the bleachers of the gym. Since the season was over, they were given a break from practices, but they all decided to play a friendly match against each other.

In the shaky video, it was pandemonium as the athletes shouted over each other while they were attempting to divide the group into teams, while Meian was yelling about keeping their voices down. Atsumu was being a cocky prick, saying that whichever group gets him would be the superior one anyway. Kiyoomi, who had been sitting a couple steps above him on the bleachers, had reached out a foot and shoved Atsumu to the floor. Bokuto’s loud laugh as he was recording rang in his ears. The caption read: “Let’s have a friendly match, they said. It will be fun, they said.”

Apparently, that interaction was enough for people to start rooting for them. They also dug up videos from the Spilled Soda Incident from the week prior, where Atsumu was shown coming to Kiyoomi’s rescue. Someone even zoomed in for a close up of Kiyoomi’s face when he was watching Atsumu from the corner of his eye. He burns with mortification.

Him and Miya Atsumu? He perishes the thought, along with the memory of firm hands trying his shoes.

He notices that “Black Jackals” and “Ninja Shouyou” were also trending, and this time he has an idea why. Anticipation bubbling in his chest, he opens a minute-long video clip from their so-called friendly match that Hinata posted on his Twitter. He captioned it: “Best rally ever!!!”

It was three on three: Kyoomi, Atsumu, and Inunaki on one side, and Bokuto, Hinata, and Meian on the other.

The first to 25 wins, and Kiyoomi’s team was on set match — but of course the opposite team couldn’t take that lying down. When Kiyoomi spiked Atsumu’s toss, Meian dived to receive it, but fumbled — the ball would have hit the floor if Hinata didn’t perform a slide that would put baseballers to shame, and kicked the ball back into the air.

What followed was a rally so insane you’d think it was the Olympics. Some of the blocks were borderline miraculous and Hinata even took a ball to his face, flying backwards at the force of it and rolling on the ground. (Later he would tweet, “Pro-tip: Never receive @sakusakiyoomi’s spike with your face! I thought I was going to be beheaded!”, along with a picture of a really impressive bruise on his cheek.)

Kiyoomi had thought it was over when Bokuto performed a blink-and-you-miss-it line shot, but somehow, Inunaki was able to receive it, the force of it blowing him back and sending him tumbling. The ball flew wide, away from the court, but Kiyoomi ran with all his might to chase it. Catching it with the tips of his fingers, he sent it back with a desperate backset, yelling, “Miya!”

Setting was not something Kiyoomi ever mastered. He hadn’t known where exactly he sent that ball flying, but he whirled around just in time to see Atsumu jump and pull off a cut shot so sharp he felt it sever something inside him. The sound of the ball slamming home echoed in his stomach.

The impossibility of that single point had the whole team screaming and jumping around in shocked delight. Even Kiyoomi couldn’t help a disbelieving laugh at the time. He remembers thinking, _This is fun_.

Atsumu had spun around to face Kiyoomi, and pointed a finger at him. His smile was victorious. “That was fucking incredible, Omi-Omi. We have to do that again or I’ll die.”

Kiyoomi had rolled his eyes at him but thought, _I want to do that again, too._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have been watching a lot of (real life) volleyball matches. They’re so addictive. This weekend: TV interview with the team!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A whole chapter just for a media interview? Oh, yes. I shamelessly lifted from actual talk show episodes, because I’m a heathen like that (and I watch far too many of those). And here, have some sexual tension too.

There are a few activities prepared for them for their interview in the late night talk show they’d been invited to.

They are all done up and looking presentable for a change. Kiyoomi had been disallowed from wearing a mask, but the staff assured him that everything is clean and disinfected for him. He wonders if they saw the Spilled Soda Incident and took measures to avoid such an episode.

The first part is a sit down interview with the host, during which they are asked about their viral three-on-three match. The full video of the match was uploaded on the MSBY Black Jackals’ social media pages due to popular demand.

Hinata in particular is singled out because the clip of him receiving a ball to the face became a truly hilarious meme.

Animatedly, Hinata regales the audience with a story of how his high school senpais called him just to laugh at him because that had happened to him in their matches before.

The amused host asks, “Do you make a habit of that or…?”

“No way! There really was only enough time for me to turn my head. I won’t ever recommend receiving Omi-san’s spike with their face. I got dizzy for a moment.” He touches his cheekbone delicately. “The bruise is still there.”

“Sorry, Shouyou-kun,” he feels compelled to say.

“You’re definitely not sorry,” Atsumu says, and Kiyoomi felt a flash of annoyance at the way he saw through that. “You can’t tell me you can aim the way you can and then accidentally hit someone on the face.”

“Exposed!” Bokuto yells. “Tell the truth! You really targeted my disciple!”

“Oh no,” the host laughs.

“Fine. I’m sorry that I’m not sorry, Shouyou-kun. But that’s what you get for spilling soda on me.”

The studio bursts into laughter while Hinata wails, “I said I was  _ sorry _ !”

“I had no idea Sakusa can be so petty,” Meian says, sounding like he just realized something horrifying.

For the next segment, they are asked to play Truth or Drink. Each team member is going to be asked a question, and should he choose not to answer, must take a drink instead.

“Meian, as captain, who would you say is the most difficult team member you have to deal with?”

“How do I even choose?” he asks, prompting laughter. “No, just kidding. It’s a toss up between Sakusa and Miya, but...yeah, no, Miya is worse.”

“Now that’s just mean!” Atsumu wails dramatically.

Sakusa also takes offense. “Me? When you have — ” he waves to Hinata and Bokuto, who protest.

Meian raises his hands. “It’s just because you’re really hard to read! And you are very particular in how you do...everything.” Atsumu guffaws and Kiyoomi shoots him a glare. “Plus, you and Miya together are enough to give me gray hairs.”

The host leans forward, something glinting dangerously in her eyes. Surely, she has seen that cursed SakuAtsu tag.

“Oh? Why is that?”

“They’re either fighting like cats and dogs, or totally ignoring each other. During the first months as a team, they would barely interact and I still don’t know why.”

Kiyoomi blinks. He didn’t think anyone noticed that, but of course the team captain did. He and Atsumu exchanged narrow-eyed glares.

“And Atsumu-kun...let’s just say it’s really awkward in the locker room when he gets meltdowns and calls his twin screaming,” Meian concludes.

“We all feel sorry for Osamu-san,” Thomas adds solemnly.

“I am not going to just lay here and take the disrespect--!”

“Anyway,” Meian says hurriedly. “Who’s next?”

“Hinata, who is your favorite senpai on the team?”

Flustered, Hinata takes a drink instead, making a face.

“Bokuto, what was the last prank you pulled on a teammate?”

“Oh! Yesterday I kept taking away chairs that they’re all about to sit on.” There’s a collective groan of remembered pain.

“Miya, who is the most famous celebrity who slid into your DMs?”

There is a hum of interest across the room and Atsumu actually looks like he was caught off guard. He opens his mouth to answer, pauses, then closes it.

“Holy shit! Who is it?” Barnes demands.

People are starting to whisper excitedly now. Atsumu strokes his chin, a smile tugging at the corner of his lip. Kiyoomi wants to punch it off his face.

“Tell us!” Inunaki practically shrieks.

Finally Atsumu decides, “I can’t,” and downs a shot of tequila.

Chaos breaks out among the team and the audience.

“Okay just answer this, did you reply?” Meian says, leaning forward.

Atsumu answers, “To which one?” 

Bokuto explodes from his seat, yelling “Hey, hey,  _ hey _ !

Something unpleasant coils between Kiyoomi’s ribs.

When everyone is calm again, Atsumu says, “For the record, no, I didn’t reply. To any of them. I ain’t looking to start anything, alright.”

The knot loosens.

“Sakusa, after your latest panel, fans want to know: Are you a germaphobe?”

The whole team falls silent, unsure if that’s a safe topic to breach. He sees Meian raise a hand, ready to interrupt, but that would be even more mortifying. He hates being patronized. Just because he has a  _ condition  _ doesn’t mean he can’t function just as well, or even  _ better _ , than others. It’s been a sticking point since childhood.

“Yes,” Kiyoomi answers bluntly. “But it’s just a symptom of my OCD.”

“Whoa, what?” For once, Atsumu is stumped.

He sighs internally. Guess he was doing this. He never had to talk about it before. “I was diagnosed with OCD when I was 9. But if I remember experiencing early symptoms since I was around 3.”

“Like what symptoms?” Hinata chirps, looking wholly interested.

“You’ll have to wait for the next round of the game to ask me another question,” he responds drily.

They laugh good-naturedly, and drop the topic. He appreciates that.

Instead, he gets asked why he and Atsumu were always fighting.

The man in question places an elbow on the table and rests his face on his hand. “Well, go on, Omi-kun. Inquiring minds want to know.”

He feels irritated again and narrows his eyes at Atsumu. In a clear voice, he says, “He’s a dick.”

Atsumu scoffs as the rest of the team laugh. “Like you’re not a jerk yourself!”

Thomas says, “True, it’s all true.”

Kiyoomi isn’t done. “He’s oversensitive.”

A muscle jumps in Atsumu’s jaw.

“He’s overdramatic.”

Everyone in the room seems to be holding their breath.

“And he’s so vain, he could give Narcissus a run for his money.”

The studio explodes in laughter and cheers. Meian, chuckling, grips Atsumu’s shoulder and shakes him. “Don’t mind, don’t mind. You know it’s all true anyway.”

Atsumu gives a disappointed sigh. “Must you always hurt me like this, Omi-Omi? On television, too! I can’t believe this, I just can’t.”

“Case in point,” he says, setting everyone off again.

After a few more rounds of that, they move on to film the next segment.

\--

“Now, there’s a reason we wanted them to have a drink first, and it’s because the next segment involves volleyball.”

Bokuto and Hinata cheer. They both look a bit flushed.

This is going to end badly.

The rules are simple. Each will take a turn trying to hit a sealed bottle of water with a volleyball. If they miss, they have to answer a question. If they hit it, they get a pass.

The catch is that the bottle is on some conveyor belt that was moving the target from left to right. Oh, and they have to hit the ball from across the stage. The stage, while roomy, isn’t that big, but hitting a moving target after drinking tequila? Sounds like a disaster.

Kiyoomi’s suspicions are proven correct, when they all miss on their first try. All of them. Meian hides his face in his hands, muttering, “This is so embarrassing for my life and soul.” They had to answer things like “Who do you think is the most attractive man on the team?” (Inunaki had to admit it was Atsumu through gritted teeth), and “What is your favorite body part?” (Innocent Shouyou had answered his legs because they always help him get back up.)

Akari-san finally follows up on his earlier reveal. “Sakusa-san, is it hard to be an athlete when you have OCD?”

“If there’s one aspect of my life that my OCD  _ doesn’t  _ affect, it’s volleyball.” He isn’t avoiding the question. It’s true. There was nothing he found disgusting on the court. Maybe it’s because of exposure, since he’s done it most of his life, or his brain simply doesn’t register it as gross. That revelation was a turning point in his therapy, making him realize that his OCD need not cripple him.

Unwilling to provide any more personal details, Kiyoomi vows to himself that he will get the next one. He drank considerably less than the rest of his team members, but moving targets are always difficult to nail. The first time, anyway. He had miscalculated and it rankled him.

In the next round, Hinata, Meian, Barnes and Thomas are able to hit the target. Hinata whoops and jumps into the air to celebrate, but doesn’t stick the landing, falling flat on his ass. Atsumu is wiping tears of mirth out of his eyes.

Kiyoomi watches the bottle of water move left to right as he takes another ball from the basket they were given. The ball needs to move faster. It could use a little spin.

He took a deep breath and centered himself. If there’s anyone whose specialty is precision, it’s Kiyoomi. He tosses the volleyball and snaps his arm forward, and then his wrist.

The ball shoots across the room, colliding with the bottle, which spun in a wild arc upon impact.

“Whoa!” the host exclaims. “There’s that famous spin.” 

“Show off,” Atsumu complains.

Kiyoomi smirks. “Bet you can’t get the next one.”

He doesn’t. Atsumu makes a gravelly sound in his throat and dramatically falls to his knees. “Why?”

Kiyoomi rolls his eyes so hard they ache.

“Don’t mind,” Hinata says, trying to comfort the drama queen.

“I mind!” Atsuma rages. “No, that’s it. I’m getting the next one. Right now. Give me another turn.”

“You still have to answer the question — ” the host tries to interject.

“I’ll answer four questions if I miss the next one.”

“Deal.”

“If, and only if, I miss.”

Kiyoomi gives him an amused stare. “You haven’t hit anything yet, Miya.”

Atsumu glares at him as people “oooh-ed” and stomps over the basket to get another ball. He stalks back and repositions himself in front of the target, then looks over at him. He raises the (large, capable) hand holding the ball, uncurls his index finger and points it at Kiyoomi.

“Eyes on me, Omi.” This time the team joins the crowd as they “oooh-ed” again.

Feeling flushed and unsettled, Kiyoomi finds it impossible to look away.

He watches Atsumu track the moving bottle with his eyes. He sees the moment his expression melts into that of intense concentration. This is his volleyball face, not the face he shows to the world, and Kiyoomi knows he was going to get it this time.

Atsumu throws the volleyball into the air. But instead of a topspin serve like they all expected, he raises both hands... and tosses it.

Amid aborted exclamations of surprise, the ball sails in a perfect, wide arc towards the target. There’s a split second of unreasonable panic because the bottle _isn’t there yet_ — just how much skill does one need to possess before you can calculate and manipulate where a volleyball toss will land? — but then —

The ball lands smack onto the bottle, toppling it.

The Black Jackals explodes into a mess of jumping and yelling and cheering, with Inunaki, Hinata, and Bokuto leaping at Atsumu as if he just scored the winning point in a game.

But Atsumu turns his head to look at Kiyoomi and his eyes were asking, “Did you see? Were you watching?”

Feeling swept away, Kiyoomi can’t help his grin. He dips his head in a nod.  _ I see you. _

Atsumu grins back like he just won.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next week: The team bonding moments we were deprived of plus a Baby Meltdown, but not from someone you’d expect.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which Kiyoomi feels things because even if he doesn’t show it, he’s still human.

Just like that, they’re free.

They’re done with the public appearances for now, and since it was officially off-season, they are suddenly granted a lot of time. The next tournament isn’t until May, so they are given a month and a half off before they resume training.

Meian, Barnes, and Thomas, who didn’t live in the jackals’ apartment building to begin with, were spending all that time with their families, so they won’t be seeing them for a while. But the rest of them weren’t inclined to leave their apartments. At some point, Shouyou will be visiting Miyagi for a week, and Bokuto has some outings planned with Akaashi Keiji, but that’s it.

Even if Kiyoomi goes home, he’s sure his parents and siblings would be busy. Although he should probably catch up with his cousin Komori at some point.

In the meantime, they plan a trip to DisneySea as one last team bonding before they go their separate ways for the break.

They go on a Wednesday. Kiyoomi had never been to DisneySea, but he saw enough pictures to know it was going to be crowded.

For the first time, Kiyoomi is glad it was still winter so covering every inch of his body was acceptable. He dons an all-black ensemble of skinny jeans, sweater, and coat, then finishes it up with a gray pair of wool gloves and a gray scarf. He smooths his face mask over his nose and mouth and he’s good to go.

“You going to a funeral or something?” is Atsumu’s greeting.

“Shut up, Miya.”

When they get there, Kiyoomi is relieved to see that it isn’t the cramped nightmare he imagined it to be. Yet.

Hinata and Bokuto are yelling about how they’re going on _all_ the rides. They skip ahead like children who have never been allowed out of the house. 

“Hey, Omi-kun,” Meian matches his strides. “You good with this?”

“I’m fine, Meian-san. If I wasn’t, you’d know.”

“It’s just that we feel bad about that panel. If you’d told us about your...issues —” _Issues?_ Oh hell no.

“You can say it, you know,” he snaps. “It’s not an offensive word, it’s just something I live with.” Kiyoomi is trying to reign in his temper. But already, he can feel a hush rippling across the group. Hinata and Bokuto stop walking.

Meian does a “there, there” motion with his hands, like Kiyoomi was a skittish horse about to go berserk. Kiyoomi tenses. “Sorry, sorry. You never mentioned it before, so I thought — what I’m trying to say is the team and the management can and will make adjustments for you. If you had put your foot down about wearing a mask for that panel, we would have understood. Perhaps you should also let us know your triggers, so we can try to avoid setting them off. So that we can make things more comfortable for you going forward.”

Kiyoomi stops walking, causing the rest of them to stop, too. He has been ignoring the way the team has been walking on eggshells around him since they filmed that interview, but to be talked down on like he didn’t spend most of his life trying to manage himself —

“ _That_ ,” he grits out. “I don’t _like that_. I’m not a child, and I’m not a freak. I’ve been managing this stupid disorder for the past 15 years of my life, and you have no idea how — you don’t know how far I’ve come already —” 

He stops when he feels an arm press against his back, a hand curling around his shoulder in a familiar grip.

“Hey, hey, Omi-Omi.” Atsumu’s firm voice cuts across the ringing in his ears. “You know he didn’t mean it like that.”

The arm slung around him urges him forward. He takes a step, then another. For the second time in his life, he’s being herded by Atsumu during a meltdown. _What is wrong with me?_

“We’re getting drinks, Cap!” Atsumu calls back over his shoulder.

Kiyoomi finds it easier to breathe the farther they walk. He feels a little ashamed of his outburst, but also justified in his anger.

Atsumu leads them to a stall that sells bottled drinks. It’s only when he drops his arm does Kiyoomi realize he’s been touching him the whole time. The realization sends a jolt down his spine.

Before he could process that, Atsumu hands him a bottle of water. Deciding it would do him some good, he pulls his mask down and drinks.

Head a little clearer, he says, “Maybe I am losing it.”

“Nah, you’re not.”

“That’s the second incident in two weeks.”

“So you had a bit of a temper tantrum, for like the first fucking time ever. From what I heard back there it was justified anyway. You wanna talk about meltdowns? I think I’ve had more than the entire team combined.”

Kiyoomi’s lips quirk up into a barely there smile. It was true. They have been witness to so many of Atsumu’s fits, they don’t even blink anymore.

He relaxes. “You’re right.”

“What was that? I might need you to repeat that, preferably while I record with my phone—” 

Kiyoomi scowls and kicks the idiot on the shin. Hard.

“Ow!” Atsumu shakes his foot. “Looks like you’re back to normal. Let’s go on some fucking rides.”

When they reunite with the uncomfortable and subdued group, Kiyoomi bobs his head in Meian’s direction. “I apologize for earlier. I also acknowledge that I should have discussed this with everyone from the start.”

Meian smiles kindly, and opens his mouth to say something but Kiyoomi holds a hand up. He’s ripping off the band-aid so he won’t have to deal with this shit again. He tugs his mask back down so they can hear him clearly. He doesn’t want to repeat himself.

“I have Contamination OCD. I don’t like germs, I have a phobia of getting sick, unpredictable crowds are a trigger. Stress aggravates my symptoms. I _can_ adjust and I _will_ , but I need time and repeated exposure. Masks make me feel safe. Don’t touch me without asking unless I’m used to you. And if you see me doing things repetitively, just...don’t laugh. It makes me feel even shittier. I don’t like doing those things, I _know_ they’re unreasonable, but I have to. And if you make me stop, it sets off an episode.”

He mentally goes through all his triggers. “And I would prefer it if you stopped treating me like I’m a psycho or an invalid. Or I will serve a ball into your face so hard your whole head will be one big bruise. Got it?”

Wide-eyed, they all nod at him obediently. He thinks he hears Atsumu wheeze something like “That’s hot,” but that doesn’t make any sense.

“That is the most I’ve ever heard you speak...ever,” Inunaki says in wonder.

Kiyoomi gives him a baleful look. “Don’t make me say it again." He puts his mask back in place and takes a deep breath. “Let’s get this shit over with.”

\--

After that, the day goes by without a hitch. Miraculously.

Hinata and Bokuto do insist on dragging them everywhere. Their good cheer spreads across them like a wave and the tension breaks. Sometimes Kiyoomi would join them in the rides. Sometimes he’d sit out without providing an explanation. A week ago, they would have pushed and insisted he join them, but this time, they let him be without a word. He starts to relax.

It was a little while before his teammates could meet his gaze. But come lunch, they didn’t bother to pretend they weren’t staring as he methodically removed his scarf, gloves, and mask, before pulling out a travel sized bottle of alcohol from his coat pocket. He spends the next few minutes thoroughly rubbing alcohol on his hands, the _proper_ way. 

“That is the single most obsessive thing I have witnessed in my life,” Atsumu says as Kiyoomi circles his left palm with the tips of the fingers of his right. The idiot is filming with his phone, probably for his Instagram stories. Barnes elbows him while Inunaki shushes.

“It’s called _obsessive_ -compulsive disorder, you idiot. And this is how you’re supposed to be sanitizing your hands anyway. Be it alcohol or soap.”

“Wait, really?”

Kiyoomi gives him a look of utter disgust. Then he repeats the entire cycle twice more.

After that, whatever tension was left completely dissipates. He dare say he’s even having fun. He bears with the group photos and selfies they insist on taking without a complaint. He figures he ruined their day enough already.

As he strolls across the amusement park, lagging slightly behind the group, Kiyoomi thinks of the many years he spent by himself. Komori had been his only friend, but the latter was only forced to deal with his presence because they were cousins. Kiyoomi had never felt the urge to befriend his old teammates or classmates either.

It wasn’t that he hated people. It was just that he’s always been left alone, and he never learned to be bothered by that. He was self-sufficient. Give him something to work with, and he’d occupy himself with that for however long it took to finish it. It was what his parents did. _Here are some puzzles, why don’t you try and solve them? Let’s sign you up for some violin lessons, you have nothing to do on Saturday mornings. We bought you new video games, you might enjoy playing them._

He knows most people are put off by him. He had been made aware early on that he wasn’t normal. When he was still undiagnosed, the OCD really interfered with his daily life, and most kids aren’t really understanding. He’s lived most of his life isolated. Just existing, day after day.

But now he has teammates he respects, and who respect him in turn. Kiyoomi never hoped for more than that, but these people have a way of drawing him into their orbits — as if there was space for him in their universe, and he never should have thought otherwise.

He supposed stranger things have happened.

“Omi-san, hurry up!”

_This is what it feels like to have friends, huh?_

He’d like to get used to it.

\--

“Hey,” he hears behind him.

Kiyoomi turns to face Atsumu. He has reached his apartment door, not realizing he’d been followed. Atsumu walks slowly towards him, platinum blonde hair glowing under the fluorescent lights overhead.

“I don’t really have stuff for an onsen trip, so I was wondering if you’d wanna come shop with me.”

Kiyoomi frowns. He’s drained from DisneySea, so just thinking about going to a mall is making his head hurt.

But those staying at the apartment complex for the break had made plans of going on a three-day trip to Ikaho the following week so they can all relax in an onsen.

He doesn’t think he had things for the trip either.

“Fine,” he tells Atsumu. “In a few days.” He needs to recover first.

Atsumu grins, face lighting up. “Awesome. So, Friday? Probably less people than if it were Saturday.”

“Fine,” he says again.

Atsumu starts walking backwards, his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. “See you then.”

“Yeah.” He enters his room.

That was weird.

Things with Atsumu were weird.

After they guested at Akari’s show, the tension between them had broken and simmered down. Like something gave way, or somebody bent. He doesn’t know which of them it was.

There isn’t much anyone could do about their natural personalities though, so they still bickered and snapped and provoked each other, but their words lacked heat, the barbs all but gone.

As he proceeds with his skincare routine, he finally deigns to think about Atsumu, something he’s been avoiding since That Interview. The team had held a watch party in Inunaki’s room when it was aired, and the entire thing turned out to be a nightmare for Kiyoomi.

He never wanted to see the way he looked when Atsumu pinned him with a glance and demanded he watch him; the way his own eyes widened when Atsumu nailed the water bottle with his toss; the way he smiled like he was genuinely impressed.

Their friends had been howling on the floor laughing, but both he and Atsumu had been silent, not daring to even glance at each other. Kiyoomi had felt vulnerable. Seen. Confused.

He thinks about Atsumu’s hand on his wrist, on his shoulder. Solid. _Grounding_.

_I don’t think this is what friends are supposed to feel like._

But thinking about it further feels like standing at the edge of a cliff in the dark of the night. Dangerous. Best to stay put for a while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next time: The boys go on a Not Date.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Totally Not A Date, but let’s act like boyfriends. - Atsumu, probably.

They head over to Ginza so they’d have more options. The cold stings the parts of Kiyoomi’s face unprotected by his face mask. They’re both in coats, but he seems to be the only one suffering.

Atsumu always looks warm.

Eight months ago, he never would have thought he’d willingly spend the day with Miya Atsumu. Funny how life throws curve balls like this.

“So what do we need?” Atsumu asks him.

“How would I know? I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t get to think this far, okay!” He pulls his phone out. “I’ll text Samu.”

Kiyoomi stops walking and sighs. “Well where do we go, for now?”

Atsumu scratches his jaw. “Food?”

It’s 10 a.m. Kiyoomi could do with some brunch.

They end up in some hole in the wall ramen shop, which hardly had any people inside. Perfect. He takes a seat after ordering, and does his pre-meal ritual.

“So, Samu replied. He said: towels, plural, travel-size toiletries, clothes and overnight bag.”

Kiyoomi gingerly rests his elbow on the table, placing his chin on the heel of his hand. He mentally sifted through his belongings, his rituals, and his skincare routines. “I need to buy more wet wipes and alcohol sprays. And some moisturizer. Maybe new clothes while we’re here.”

After a while, their food is served. He’s promptly disallowed from digging in, because Atsumu says he has to take a photo for his Instagram stories and Twitter.

Pointing his phone at Kiyoomi, Atsumu chirps, “Smile!”

He doesn’t do any of the sort. He simply stares, unimpressed.

Atsumu sighs.

They finish with their meal and hit the drugstore first.

“You know, you might actually be of some use today, Miya,” he says.

Atsumu pouts. “Just today?! Excuse you.”

“You should get a basket.”

It takes a whole five minutes into their shopping for Atsumu to realize what’s happening. “You dick! What am I, your servant?”

If Kiyoomi smiles, it’s hidden by his mask. “But I don’t want to have to touch stuff that other people touched if I don’t have to.” Then he points. “Get one of those.”

“I can’t fucking believe this.”

When they’re done, they proceed to shop for clothes, which Kiyoomi refuses to fit. He picks out some familiar styles and that’s that. Atsumu, however, fits sweaters, shirts, jackets, and asks Kiyoomi if he should get them. Kiyoomi simply gives a thumbs up if it looked nice, and a thumbs down if it didn’t.

Just what in the world were they doing?

By the time they think they got everything they needed, it was only 2 p.m.

“Wanna get ice cream?” Atsumu asks.

“Ice cream? In February?”

They get ice cream. Atsumu walks them around the Pedestrian Paradise and demands Kiyoomi take a photo of him there for his Instagram. Eye twitching, he sighs and caves.

And then they’re on the train ride home.

Kiyoomi stands stiffly by a pole near the closed train doors, and mentally wills everyone to stay away. But the universe isn’t always kind, and there are quite a lot of people in the carriage.

And then Atsumu is there shouldering his way to stand in front of Kiyoomi, reaching up a hand to grasp a handrail. He’s a little too close for comfort, but he’s blocking the rest of the crowd, so he takes it.

Kiyoomi tilts his chin down and studies Atsumu’s face. He really is quite handsome: pale hair, dark brows, and fine, fine features. He isn’t looking at Kiyoomi. That feels intentional.

He watches Atsumu watch Tokyo through the window. He wants to ask, _Why? Why go out of your way for me? Why did you take me with you today?_

But he doesn’t think he’s ready for the answer, so he keeps his lips shut and just breathes.

\--

The next morning in the communal kitchen, Hinata won’t stop staring at him.

The others are either still sleeping or having a workout, so it’s just the two of them. Kiyoomi ignores him until he physically can’t anymore.

He puts his tea down and sighs. “What?”

“Are...are you and Atsumu-san dating now?”

“What? No.”

“But you went on that date yesterday!”

“That wasn’t a date,” he snaps. “We were shopping for the onsen trip.”

Hinata tilts his head and gives him an unsettling stare. “I see.” He smiles. “You know the whole of Japan probably thinks it was. A date, I mean.”

“Ugh.” He’d been avoiding social media since their talk show guesting was aired. But he did see Atsumu’s posts when he got back to his room, because he tagged him in them.

The pictures and videos felt...intimate. The first post in his Instagram story was a picture of Kiyoomi in the ramen shop, staring back impassively, hand cradling his jaw while he waited. “Must feed to avoid crankiness,” Atsumu captioned.

That was the only photo Atsumu bothered to warn him about. He had also posted short video clips: Kiyoomi pointing at a product on the shelf and Atsumu dropping it into the shelf, muttering, “I can’t believe he would take advantage of my kindness this way”; a view of Kiyoomi’s back as he walked ahead, coat swishing behind him, a sticker marking the time as 1 p.m.; a stolen photo of Kiyoomi at the Pedestrian Paradise, head turned away, lips touching his soft serve matcha ice cream cone. There was no caption on that one.

_Is this how he sees me?_

Atsumu had also posted several selfies but Kiyoomi would deny staring at those.

“How bad is it? Online, I mean.”

“Well…” Hinata ponders for a moment. “SakuAtsu is still trending on Twitter. Has been since he posted the pictures. And, well, they got a lot of materials from you know...the talk show. I’m pretty sure even news outlets are picking those up now, too.”

“Fuck. I really don’t know what goes on in that brain of his.”

Hinata hesitates. “Omi-san, do you like Atsumu-san?”  
  
Kiyoomi panics. He wasn’t prepared to face this today. He takes his mug of tea and says, “Excuse me. I have to go.”

He flees to his room, Hinata’s words echoing in his brain.

_Do you like Atsumu?_

_Like?_ He’s afraid he bypassed that phase entirely and slipped straight into deep waters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain to me while I was writing this: Do you think maybe hinata developed a teeny bit of a crush on atsumu  
> Me to my brain: Shh that's his business, we aren't supposed to know
> 
> Anyway, I didn't know that MSBY Black Jackals were based in Osaka when I wrote this and I've only ever been to Tokyo so...
> 
> Next week: Out of town trip!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING for this chapter: Atsumu posts a pic of Omi on Instagram without his permission. Nothing too scandalous, but it showed him naked in an onsen (but only the topmost part of body could be seen -- head, neck, shoulders, etc). It squicked a couple of people so I've decided to put a warning.

They take a bus from Shinjuku Station and arrive at Ikaho past 8 a.m. It’s way too early for them to check in, but there are a lot of things they could explore, so they didn’t waste any more time. Bokuto and Hinata go running out the doors of the ryokan they’ll be staying in, abandoning their bags on the floor of the reception.

Akaashi gives a long-suffering sigh. “There they go again.” He puts his bag down and nods gratefully at the receptionist. “I’ll go try to slow them down.”

They take their time exploring the town, checking out shops and snacks.

When they reach the bottom of the famous stone stairs, Bokuto, Hinata, and Atsumu race each other to the top, and disappear from their sight.

The rest of them languidly climb the steps to where the Three Idiots (as he’s labeled them in his head) are panting on the ground.

“Omi-kun,” Atsumu whines. “I don’t think I can stand up”

“What did you expect to happen when you ran up 365 steps?”

He receives a pitiful whimper.

Kiyoomi nudges Atsumu’s knee with his shoe. “Well? Who won?”

Hinata declares, “I did!” Of course he did.

“It was a close fight,” Bokuto mopes.

They find a place for lunch, which lets them kill two hours of their time, and by then they can start making their way back to their inn to check-in. Kiyoomi feels relieved. He can feel exhaustion starting to seep in.

It’s when they’re distributing room keys that it occurs to Kiyoomi.

Bokuto and Akaashi will be rooming together, of course. They already went ahead to their room, promising to message the group chat in an hour or so.

Then Inunaki hands Atsumu a key and says, “I’m rooming with Hinata. See you guys later for dinner.” He scampers away.

Kiyoomi carefully avoids looking at Atsumu. He bends down to pick up his bag, hiding his face.

Atsumu asks the attendant for directions to their room, and they set off.

It’s not so bad. The room is large and clean and traditional, with two futons on the polished wooden floor. There’s a glass door that, upon inspection, leads out to a patio that has an outdoor private onsen and a truly beautiful garden.

“Dude, cool. Nice view,” Atsumu says, having followed him.

“Can I just stay in this onsen and not go to the public ones?” he muses. The day is really starting to catch up to him, and fast.

“You did not travel over two hours just to sulk here, Omi-Omi.” He sounds exasperated. “We can rest first before meeting up again with the others.”

Kiyoomi listens to his footsteps recede. The place really is beautiful, like a pocket of paradise reserved just for them. The onsen looks inviting. Distantly, he recognizes that he’s begun mentally drifting.

His bare feet touch the cool, smooth wooden flooring as he steps out from the room. Slowly, he starts peeling off his layers. Drops them carelessly onto the floor, one by one.

He leans down to test the water and finds it to be just on the right side of hot. He steps in and sinks into the welcoming water, resting the back of his head at the edge.

After a while, he registers the deafening silence. He turns his head to the right and sees Atsumu frozen, gazing at him with something like awe. His cheeks are red.

“You’ll have to hand me a towel later.”

Atsumu stutters. “Y-yeah.”

He leans his head back and closes his eyes.

\--

The next thing he’s aware of is some splashing and someone calling his name.

He opens his eyes to see Atsumu leaning over him.

“You fell asleep. Figured I shouldn’t let you stay in there too long or you’ll be a prune.”

“Oh,” he slurs. “Okay.” He heaves himself up.

Atsumu jerks up a hand clutching a towel and turns his head sharply away. “Here! Christ, have you no shame?”

“Too tired. Bus ride. Long.” He tries to explain as he wraps the towel around his waist.

His roommate is already walking towards his own futon. “You should continue your nap. You’re slap happy, and very much not yourself.”

“Like you would know.”

Atsumu stops. Looks at him over his shoulder with an unreadable expression on his face, but doesn’t say anything.

With all the energy left in him after an anxiety-ridden, two-hour long bus ride, Kiyoomi pulls on some pajamas and crawls into his futon. He’s out like a light.

The next time he wakes, everything is dark. He turns in bed, noticing he has a blanket draped over him now. The light from Atsumu’s phone tells him he’s awake.

“What time is it?”

There’s a pause, before a lamp clicks on. Warm light allows Atsumu’s face to come into view. “It’s 10 p.m.”

Shit. “Did you meet up with the rest of them?”

“Yeah. We just had dinner and talked over drinks for a while. Told ‘em you were pooped and knocked yourself out.”

“Mmm.”

“I posted a photo of you sleeping in the onsen.”

 _What?_ “Of course you did.” 

“That’s what you get for abandoning your roommate to the wolves. I had to listen to Hinata work out his feelings about Kageyama, Omi, it was gross, okay?”

Kiyoomi laughs at that. “How are they still not together?”

“They’re the dumbest idiots on the planet?”

He laughs again.

“You’re laughing more with me.”

He falls silent. “I didn’t realize.”

“That’s...good. Right?”

Quietly, he says, “I’m not sure.” _You scare me_ , he doesn’t say.

There is silence once more. He never thought Atsumu could be quiet like this. He never thought about a lot of things.

Something about the moment compels Kiyoomi to keep talking. “What else did you talk about?”

If Atsumu is surprised he doesn’t show it. He updates him with everything he missed, his deep voice so familiar by now that it has started to bring him comfort.

_Is he changing me? Or did he just wake me up?_

“You were right earlier, you know.”

“Hmm?”

“I don’t really know you. I mean, I know the person you are but I don’t really know the details.”

Kiyoomi mulls this over. No one had ever wanted the details before. “Ask then.”

They talk until the wee hours of the morning. Kiyoomi opens up about his lonely childhood; Atsumu tells him about the pains and frustrations of having a twin. Kiyoomi talks about his rituals, his mental blocks, his therapy. Atsumu just shrugs and says they all have their quirks — like it isn’t a big deal, like he isn’t full of flaws. Like it’s all just a part of Kiyoomi.

When he realizes Atsumu has been silent for too long, he looks over and sees he has fallen asleep.

He drinks in the sight of his face, a warmth spreading across his chest.

He thinks, and accepts, _I don’t like him, Shouyou-kun. I’m in love with him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Update: The part about Atsumu posting Omi's pic on Instagram bothered a couple of readers, so sorry to those who got put off. Just wanted to point out that Atsumu thought it was endearing and wanted to immortalize and share the moment. No sensitive parts were shown or anything, which you'll see in the next chapter. (And Omi might pretend to be annoyed but he's a famous volleyball player who probably has ads and photoshoots and stuff, so he doesn't really mind. It's probably also better than the embarrassing photos and videos that Hinata and Bokuto post of him.)


	8. Chapter 8

Kiyoomi heads out for breakfast, feeling revived and extremely hungry. The rest of the crew are already in the dining area.

“Hey, hey, hey, Omi-kun!” Bokuto greets.

He waves and goes to the buffet to gather some food. When he arrives at the table, Inunaki asks, “Where’s Tsumu?”

“Still asleep.”

“And you didn’t wake him?” Inunaki sounds exasperated.

Kiyoomi lets out a dismissive sound. “Leave him there to rot.”

“What is with you two?” It sounds like a rhetorical question so Kiyoomi focuses on eating.

“Did you see Atsumu-san’s post yet?” Hinata grins, bouncing on his seat.

“No. But he mentioned last night he posted something.”

“You’re viral! People are totally thirsting over you. That was a really nice photo of you Omi-san!”

Kiyoomi pauses in his eating. _Thirsting?_ He puts his chopsticks down and digs around for his phone.

When he sees the picture, he immediately slams his phone down on the table. “I’m going to kill him.”

Akaashi is smiling. “It has 200,000 likes now.”

“Can you just fucking tell me what is with you two?” Inunaki demands. He guesses the earlier question wasn’t rhetorical. “First you two spend the day in Ginza together, then last night Atsumu shows up alone and tells us to let you sleep, _after_ he posts a picture of you naked in an onsen?”

The whole group looks at him expectantly. He shifts uncomfortably. “I don’t know.”

“What d’ya mean you don’t know!” This was Bokuto.

“Nothing happened, if that’s what you were wondering about.”

“Really?” Inunaki sounds disbelieving.

“Really. I honestly fell asleep in the onsen. The bus ride exhausted me.”

“So you’re not together.”

“I don’t think so.” _Not yet._ _But it feels like it’s where we’re headed. Like we slipped and fell into a current some time ago, and now we’re just being dragged along. There’s no doubt we’d crash into each other in the end._

 _Inevitable_.

Then a clear thought rings in his head: _He's already mine._

Hinata scratches his jaw. “I’m really confused. Akaashi-san, you told me last night that we should be clear about our feelings and what we wanted!”

Akaashi rubs his forehead. “You’re making things exceedingly hard for me, Omi-san.”

Atsumu chooses that time to arrive in a flurry of grumbling and dramatics. “I can’t believe you didn’t wake me, Omi-kun!”

“You didn’t wake me last night.”

“I was being considerate! And this is what I get? Abandoned by my friends!”

“It is way too early for your dramatics. Go get your food.”

He thinks it's strange that he isn't panicking. He decides to think about it all later.

They hit the hot springs after breakfast. Kiyoomi is generally fine with bodies of water so long as they’re natural. Swimming in the sea is fine, as well as lakes, rivers, and lagoons. Something about it comforted him.

Swimming pools are a different matter altogether. He would never dip a single toe in one.

“Try not to fall asleep this time,” Inunaki tells him drily. He glares back at him.

After a late lunch, the group decide to play some old-fashioned arcade games, having come across them while walking around. Hinata is particularly excited about this because he wants to take pictures to send to his friend Kozume Kema.

Needless to say, they all get overly competitive again. The games are the types you’d see in a carnival: shooting games, throwing games, ring tosses and the like. There are old posters plastered on the walls, and stuffed toys from small to large displayed everywhere.

Kiyoomi is highly charmed by it. He takes as many photos as he can.

His eyes automatically seek out Atsumu. The blonde is leaning against a wall cluttered with random toys and posters, arms crossed and face turned to watch the street outside. In his denim jacket, he looks like he belonged. He sneaks a photo of that too.

After Bokuto insists on checking out the other arcade shops, however, Kiyoomi starts to feel his energy getting sapped away. A stranger accidentally bumps into him in passing and he flinches. He feels the familiar presence of Atsumu nearby and draws closer, taking comfort.

Atsumu tenses up in surprise at his proximity then relaxes. He doesn’t look at Kiyoomi. _Sparing me_ , he thinks. _Or shy?_ Emboldened, he curls his hands around Atsumu’s bicep. Exposure, he tells himself. But there’s no spike of anxiety, no unwanted thoughts, no impulse to perform his rituals.

They spend the afternoon that close.

\--

By the time they finally return to their room that evening, they’re sharing a charged but comfortable silence.

Kiyoomi takes a bath and proceeds with his nighttime routine.

As he stares at his reflection, he thinks he doesn’t recognize himself. He looks more alive than usual, cheeks lightly flushed with a healthy color, eyes bright. 

_Is this what being in love looks like?_ Then _, God, did it have to be Miya Atsumu?_

He exits the bathroom and crawls into his futon. As Atsumu takes his turn in the shower, he scrolls through the photos of his phone. He never had so many taken in a day.

He pauses at the picture of Atsumu. It’s a beautiful picture. It looked like he was out of his time, kind of lost, but totally at home. For the first time, Kiyoomi understands one’s urge to share something with the world. There is some pride there. _Look, I took this. Look, I was part of this moment._

_Look, he’s mine._

Does he dare? If he follows through, it will cause a stir, something he usually took great pains to avoid. Kiyoomi doesn’t even really post much on his social media. His accounts mostly featured Black Jackals-related posts. Sometimes if a good spike or serve was caught by a teammate on camera he posts that too.

He clicks on Atsumu’s Instagram and studies the photo of him. It’s taken from inside the room so that the half-closed sliding door was in the frame. It gives the impression that the person behind the camera was indulging in something he shouldn’t be.

The only parts of Kiyoomi that were visible were his head, tilted up and resting on the edge of the tub; an arm and elbow hooked along the side; the profile of his face, the line of his throat, the dips in his collarbone.

He looked peaceful. Maybe even beautiful. Atsumu had captioned, “Bus ride must have exhausted him, he fell asleep in the onsen first thing lol.”

He never needed to explain anything to the guy, did he?

Kiyoomi posts the picture.

\--

He must have dozed off, because he’s awoken by fingers gently running across his hair.

His heartbeat picks up, effectively waking him. Atsumu is sitting cross-legged on the floor beside Kiyoomi’s futon, one hand on his hair, another on his phone. Feeling him shift, Atsumu leans over him and meets his gaze.

For a long moment neither of them move. Then slowly, like he’s comforting a scared animal, Atsumu starts moving his fingers gently across Kiyoomi’s curls.

He waits for the anxiety to bubble up in his stomach, for the hairs on his arms to raise. There is nothing. Just warmth.

“I like that picture of me.”

He swallows. “Me too.”

“Why did you post it?”

“Why have you been posting photos of me?”

Atsumu’s eyes travel to the sliding doors. “Because I was proud. That I got to see you like that. And spend time with you like that. That you let me. Just me.”

For a while no one speaks. Kiyoomi admires the profile of Atsumu’s face. “I thought you were beautiful. I wanted to show you off to the world.”

Atsumu’s wide eyes snap back to lock with his. His hand stops moving. “What do you mean by that?” 

“You already know.”

“I need there to be no miscommunication here, Omi, or else I’m going to die. I really am.” Atsumu shifts, leaning over him and placing a hand near Kiyoomi’s pillow. Trapping him. “I’m going to make myself very clear. I’m in love with you. Do with that what you will.”

His heart is in his throat. He feels unmoored, a strange feeling he didn’t particularly like. This is the most unstable he’s ever felt in his life.

He knows he could decide then and there to turn away, and this fever dream will be over. Atsumu would be hurt, but he could be professional, and in time, everything will be fine again. His life will return to the way it was before. Just him and volleyball and his damn OCD.

Something in him screams in protest, asking, _Are you really going to just drift through life, never really living?_

“Hey,” Atsumu says gently. “It’s just me.” He smiles down at Kiyoomi, and he’s not sure when that smile became so familiar. Comforting.

Then Atsumu takes his wrist and lifts his hand to hover over his face. “Stop thinking for a bit. If you want me, forget about everything and just —”

Kiyoomi places shaking fingers to Atsumu’s cheek. _Just Atsumu_ , he thinks. _But there’s nothing ‘just’ about him_. Pale hair, dark brows, fine features. There’s nothing to fear here.

He remembers a line from an old movie he watched long ago. A quote that his brain got stuck on.

_You know, sometimes all you need is 20 seconds of insane courage. Just, literally, 20 seconds of just embarrassing bravery. And I promise you, something great will come of it._

Kiyoomi just needs one.

He curls his hand behind Atsumu’s neck, dragged him in, and kisses him.

It was like pouring gasoline on fire. The moment their lips touch, they’re devouring each other. Atsumu presses his body down on Kiyoomi, only for Kiyoomi to roll them over so he could straddle Atsumu’s thighs. 

His fingers grip Atsumu’s shirt, dragging him closer and closer until it’s impossible to _get_ any closer. Atsumu’s fingers in turn run across Kiyoomi’s hair, grabbing, pulling.

It’s that sharp pain that tugs Kiyoomi back to reality. He shoves Atsumu away and scrambles off of him, dragging himself backwards across the floor.

They pant and stare wide-eyed at each other.

“I — I’m sorry, Omi, fuck, I don’t know what happened—”

“Stop,” he interrupts. He tries to get his breathing under control. “Don’t you dare be sorry for that.”

He takes stock of himself. He’s feeling fine. He’s feeling _alive_. His brain is silent, his body isn’t protesting. He wants more, like something in him has been unlocked. Hungry. Free.

He looks at Atsumu. He looks sinful. His shirt is rumpled and it has ridden up, showing a sliver of skin. His lips are red, and his eyes are wild.

Sakusa Kiyoomi just kissed the living daylights out of Miya Atsumu and it was mind-numbingly good.

He starts laughing, but then he can’t stop. His eyes water.

“Omi-Omi…?”

His breath hitches as he inhales. “It’s going to be really hard being with me.”

“I’m not one to quit.”

“I can be downright intolerable at times. Nobody could stand me.”

“Believe me, I’m aware.”

“You’re crazy to like me.”

“You’re crazy to like me, too.”

They grin at each other.

He crawls back over to Atsumu, until he’s curled tightly against him, arms around his neck. Atsumu adjusts automatically, letting him in. Of course he does. If Kiyoomi had done this out of nowhere a month ago, Atsumu would have let him. The realization makes him smile. Makes him brave.

_Just one second._

“I’m in love with you too, Atsumu.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh, this chapter is a disaster. I already wrote and edited this last month, then for some reason, just as I was about to post it, I suddenly started deleting whole ass paragraphs and writing new ones in. I DON'T KNOW. BUT OMI FINALLY FACED HIS FEELINGS SO LET'S REJOICE LOL. I think it's so cute how he doesn't realize the baby steps he's been making, but that's how progress goes, right?
> 
> (Does anyone know the movie reference? It's been stuck with me for years now and I suddenly thought it was fitting for Omi.)


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I woke up to a ton of really nice comments, so I decided to put the rest out today. Have some fluff! If you’re waiting for angst, you came to the wrong fic lol

They try to act normal around their friends the next day, and not like they made out and then slept beside each other, holding hands.

Luckily, they only see them during breakfast, before they each busied themselves with last-minute errands and explorations. Hinata had asked about the photo that Kiyoomi posted, but he just said it was revenge.

Kiyoomi decides to take advantage of their private onsen again before getting ready for check-out. He sighs as he relaxes into the hot water.

Atsumu kneels down beside the tub, braces an arm along the side, and rests his chin on top of it. Kiyoomi watches him watching him.

“I thought I was having a heart attack when you just started taking off your clothes out here that first night. Apparently, I was just having some kind of religious experience.”

“Shut up. Dork.”

“It’s true. Why do you think I took that picture? You’re goddamn gorgeous, you know that? You should see some of the replies on that post, they were downright filthy.”

“I will never understand why you thought it was a good idea to post that. We weren’t even together yet.”

“I had to stake my claim. Besides I didn’t say anything damning.”

They bask in the intimacy of the moment. After a while, Atsumu reaches out and carefully touches his collarbone. “It doesn’t bother you anymore? When I touch you?”

“No. It hasn’t for a while now. I already know you.”

“So it’s familiarity?”

“It’s more complicated than that, but sure. Familiarity,” he said. “Exposure. And other things.”

“I see.” Atsumu was smiling. Almost preening. “Will you let me shout out to the world that you’re mine?”

“Not literally, but yeah. One day. I want to have this for myself for a while. Is that okay?”

“Of course. Whenever you’re ready.”

“There will be bad days, Atsumu,” he warns. “I won’t always be in this headspace.”

“I know. But listen, Omi, I’ve already decided that you belong with me, alright? Just let me fucking love you.”

“...Alright.”

\--

They’re waiting to board their bus back to Tokyo. Their friends had wanted to buy snacks from the konbini, so he and Atsumu volunteered to watch their stuff.

“That was a nice trip. I actually had fun.”

“Yeah?” Atsumu gives him a devilish smile. “Because of me right?”

“How your neck holds that big head of yours I will never understand.”

Atsumu’s smile gets bigger and Kiyoomi tilts his face down to see it properly.

He doesn’t mean anything by it. But when Atsumu hooks a finger around his mask and tugs it down, he’s helpless to resist the pull. And then they are suddenly all over each other again, kissing like there’s no tomorrow. He bids goodbye to his normally sharp sense of reason, but thrives in the feeling of being able to let go of it, for once.

He’s dragged back to reality when he hears a scream and the sound of something crashing to the floor. He and Atsumu jump apart, lips making a smacking sound when they are pulled apart.

Their friends stand there staring at them in varying measures of shock and disbelief.

“What,” Inunaki begins when he finds his voice after a long, tense moment. “The. Hell?”

“Um, congratulations…?” Hinata says, eyes moving from one to the other, no doubt wondering if what they just witnessed was a product of a fever dream.

Atsumu clears his throat. “Er, so I’d like to announce that we are now in a relationship. As of last night.”

They all relax. Akaashi says, “Oh, thank goodness.”

Bokuto shakes off the shock and yells, “Congratulations!”

“You can stop your fucking moping and yearning now, Atsumu,” Inunaki said.

“Shut up!” Asumu hissed back.

Their friends converge on them, chattering excitedly. Kiyoomi accepts their careful back pats.

Atsumu tells him, “Well that didn’t take long at all. You know, I’m starting to suspect we’re bad at the secrecy thing, Omi-Omi.”

“Oh shit,” Inunaki says, his expression brightening. “Imagine Meian’s face when he finds out!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *tears up* he accepted their back pats
> 
> One long-ass and extremely fluffy epilogue coming right up!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is it an epilogue if it’s this long…? Doesn’t matter, it’s done, HAVE AT IT.

When they do eventually go public, that’s when they truly “break the internet,” as Hinata calls it.

It’s been over a year since he and Atsumu got together. They had recently won the V. League championship again, and they were about to begin training for the 2021 Olympics.

 _They’re going to the Olympics._ The roster had just been announced to the public.

Over the moon, Atsumu insists to Kiyoomi that it's time. “C’mon, let me tell the world, babe! When we go out there, I want people to know that I made it there with the love of my life!”

Kiyoomi smiles at him, happiness making him feel almost high. “Go on, then.”

“ _Really_?”

“Really. Thank you for waiting for me.”

Atsumu climbs on their bed and kisses him. “I’m going to make it so scandalous, Meian’s going to faint.”

They had never addressed the questions and speculation that revolved around the two of them, and tried to be as inconspicuous as possible about it in public. They toned down the social media posts, but Atsumu couldn’t help but post things sometimes, just enough for the public to really wonder. But so long as they don’t confirm anything, everything remains a rumor.

When they had informed the rest of their team that they were together, Meian sat down hard and stared blankly at them. “But...you hate each other.”

“I knew it,” Barnes bragged. “Omi-kun wouldn’t let anyone touch him but Tsum-Tsum.”

Thomas simply stared like he didn’t know what was going on.

Their coach, Simon Foster, boomed out a laugh. “This should do wonders in your chemistry in the court.” 

Hana, their manager, told them to just feel free to announce their relationship in their social media however and whenever they want, saying that she’ll handle scheduling the inevitable interviews after. Then she cackled about something that sounded like “effortless PR.”

Now, they were cashing in on that deal.

**_Miya Atsumu_ @miyaatsumu**

We’re going to the olympics, baby

[Photo: Kiyoomi slept peacefully on the bed, curled on his side, hand tucked under his chin. The early morning light filtered through the curtains and fell on the smooth skin of his toned back. A white comforter was tangled around his bare legs, barely covering his privates.]

**_Sakusa Kiyoomi_ @sakusakiyoomi**

Can’t lie, this is the best life. I love you @miyaatsumu

[Photo: Atsumu was holding up the phone for a selfie. He faced the camera upfront, smile wide and eyes crinkly as he was caught mid-laugh. Kiyoomi’ was curled up against his side like a koala, head bowed and forehead brushing against Atsumu’s jaw. Only one side of his face could be seen, but he was grinning, teeth peeking out from his upturned lips.]

“Happy now?” he asks Atsumu.

“Extremely.”

“Good.”

For a long while, they simply bask in the intimacy of their shared warmth as they cuddle together in bed. A year ago, Kiyoomi would never have thought he could manage this, but here he was. Holding his lover, his partner, his best friend. 

It hadn’t been the easiest journey to get here. Falling in love was the easy part. Maintaining a relationship was hard work.

Sometimes, they felt they were taking one step forward, then two steps back. Kiyoomi would get anxious thinking that one day, Atsumu would reach his breaking point and say he’s done.

But he never did. Neither of them did. After all, they were no stranger to hard work and effort. They never could leave things well enough alone.

The whole thing was as much a journey of self-discovery for Kiyoomi, who found depths in his heart that surprised even him. He learned to stretch his patience, become more understanding. He learned to embrace Atsumu for all he is — a person who has his own triggers, too. What seems like a minor issue to Kiyoomi could be a big deal to Atsumu.

He learned how to bend and meet him halfway. Learned that there were two of them in this relationship and for the first time in his life, he is no longer alone.

\--

“So,” Akari began heavily.

“So,” Atsumu replied.

“You’re back.”

“We’re back.”

“And you’re together now.”

“We are together now actually.”

There were loud cheers among the audience.

After their photos blew up social media and made it to news headlines — even in international outfits, because two Olympians announcing a relationship was apparently a good hook — Hana had scheduled them for an interview with Akari’s show once again. She said something about it being poetic. Kiyoomi stopped trying to understand her a long time ago.

“So, when did this happen?”

“It was when we went to Ikaho with the team last year.”

“A year! You’ve been together for a year?”

“A little over a year, yeah.”

“Tell us about your love story,” Akari insists. “How did it start? Everyone was under the impression you didn’t get along, but you did trigger a lot of curiosity with some of your posts.”

“Well, I mean, I have eyes you know? You see him right?” Atsumu says seriously. There were giggles and squeals. “I was attracted to him immediately when he popped back in my life, obviously, but the moment we interacted it was just — _bad_. And he proceeded to pretend I didn’t exist, unless we were on the court. And I was just like, man, what a dick, right?”

“You’re telling this wrong,” Kiyoomi says.

“No way, this is how it happened from my perspective. You were totally a jerk!”

“ _Wow_.”

“So I understandably had a meltdown when I realized I had developed feelings for you.”

Kiyoomi perks up.

Akari leans forward, looking eager. “And then?”

“Well. Obviously I freaked out first, and I didn’t know how to act around him. Whenever he’d walk into the room, I’d just freeze, like, I’d literally hold my breath.” Atsumu is getting into the story now. He’s always been a good story-teller. Biting down a smile, Kiyoomi listens intently.

“And he’d never even notice! He couldn’t stand me!” Atsumu whines. “I just wanted to shake him and scream, ‘pay attention to me’! I’m really cute! I exist!”

Kiyoomi can’t help but grin at that. “You’re such a _baby_. I can’t with you.” Feeling magnanimous he adds, “And you were wrong anyway. You might have thought I wasn’t looking but deep, deep, deep down inside I was already attached to you.”

“This is so cute, I can’t stand it,” Akari says, placing a hand on her cheek. “When did you start liking Miya-san, Sakusa-san?”

He had to think of a moment. “Well...I guess I already knew he was attractive from the start. But I think I started liking him during the panel where Hinata knocked over that soda. I’m sure you remember.”

“Of course. But Miya-san saved you that time, huh?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, kept me from getting the worst of it, but I was still triggered by everything — the cramped place, the cameras, the crowd — it was just a bad day. So he took me to the bathroom, and I couldn’t even look at my shoes, which I knew was wet and sticky with soda. And he cleaned it for me.”

“ _Really?_ ”

“Yes. And I remember watching him wash them on the sink very seriously, and thinking, okay he’s not bad. And after a while, I realized I probably really liked him.”

“So how did you two finally get together?”  
  
Atsumu is the one to answer. “Well, we reached a point where we became kind of...close, but not quite friends, you know? And I started to think _just maybe_ he likes me too, and I was collecting all these moments as proof that yeah, he definitely likes me too. But then it got _totally_ ridiculous. We skipped being friends and went straight to acting like we were boyfriends.”

“It’s because you were a flirt.”

“I was trying to _woo_ you, you oblivious idiot. I mean, I enjoyed that weird phase but I was like, are we really not going to talk about this? And I thought, you know what, that’s it. The waiting has to end. Right now. _Immediately_ ,” he stresses. “We were more than friends, so I wanted to just put an end to that weird limbo. So I confessed. He couldn’t escape anyway, we were out of town.”

A round of applause and laughter ripple across the studio.

“So, Sakusa-san, you bagged volleyball’s biggest heartthrob.”

“Ew.”

“Last time you were here, you said, and I quote: ‘He’s a dick, he’s oversensitive, he’s overdramatic, and he’s so vain he could give Narcissus a run for his money’.”

It was a bad idea to return here. Kiyoomi says, “He is still all of that.”

“What’s it like to have him as a partner?”

“Where to start. Well, he’s a big baby, as you already know. In the beginning it was just a practice in patience and understanding and learning to make room for him and his...everything.”

“You’re not making me sound like the catch I am, Omi,” Atsumu pouts. Cute.

Kiyoomi can’t help but smile at him. “I wouldn’t change a thing about him.”

There is a collective “aww” as Atsumu stares at him stunned. The “aww” gets louder when Atsumu starts wiping his eyes.

Kiyoomi starts to laugh. “What are you crying for?!”

“Shut up, shut up!” Atsumu warbles as he presses his hands against his eyes. Kiyoomi is overcome with fondness and reaches across the couch for him, pulling his head close and pressing three tiny kisses on his temple.

“Stop crying. Osamu will laugh at you.” He pries his boyfriend’s hands off his face.

“That dick,” Atsumu sniffles. “Fine, I’m fine.”

When everyone is settled back down, Akari bounces the same question to Atsumu, asking what it’s like to be with Kiyoomi.

Atsumu hums then says, “Well, it’s obviously a big adjustment for both of us, because there are a lot of boundaries, a lot of anxieties we both have to be careful about. But I already knew that from the beginning.”

“That’s the OCD then, huh?”

“Yeah. It’s a serious thing, but I don’t like when he’s reduced to that germaphobe dude, or that one player with OCD. The term gets thrown around so loosely...it’s not just that he doesn’t like germs or he cleans a lot. It’s him knocking on the doorway exactly once before entering a room. Or when he’s putting things away, for example, clothes — he folds it, opens the drawer, puts it in, then closes the drawer. Then he repeats it, exactly like that until he’s done.”

“I have no explanation to why I do that,” Kiyoomi says. “I just do.”

Atsumu nods. “Personally, I loved discovering those tiny little habits that make him...well, him. I mean, he is the most badass volleyball player I have ever met and the most hardworking person I ever got the pleasure to know. So when he taps the jar of moisturizer on the counter five times before using it, I think it’s so adorable,” Atsumu smiles.

“I told you don’t do that,” Kiyoomi says.

“You do,” Atsumu laughs. “You do it every night, love.”

As Atsumu goes on to talk about them being recruited for the Olympics team, Kiyoomi thinks about how he probably does tap the jar of moisturizer on the counter five times before using it. He thinks about how he never even realized it until Atsumu pointed it out in amusement one night.

He thinks about how he sometimes wants to eat a sandwich, but the idea of all those ingredients thrown in and squished together always put him off. He thinks about how Atsumu said, “You don’t have to put them together. Just place the ingredients on a plate and eat them separately.” He remembers the satisfaction he felt when he did exactly that.

He thinks about how he apologized to Atsumu one night, because he was weird and difficult. How Atsumu said, “That’s how I know you’re you, Omi-Omi. I like the weird and difficult you.”

He thinks about the person he never would have become if not for Miya Atsumu.

Smiling a little, Kiyoomi reaches out and takes Atsumu’s hand. Taps his finger on Atsumu’s palm thrice. Wonders if Atsumu ever figured out that it means _“I love you,”_ that it’s not just one of his repetitive habits.

Atsumu tightens his grip around his hand. Grounding, as always. A silent _I’ve got you._

Kiyoomi didn’t think this kind of happiness was for him. At some point in his life, he had decided the whole falling in love, settling down with someone thing was just not for him. Who would want him? He was perfectly fine on his own. He didn’t need anyone else.

He _wants_ Atsumu though. Wants to play volleyball with him, and live life with him, and then eventually retire with him. He is his person. No one else had tried so hard just to get over Kiyoomi’s walls. And in the end, Kiyoomi was the one to open the door and let him in.

Kiyoomi thinks that no matter what comes, as long as they stay together, everything will be just fine.

 _Yes_ , he decides, as Atsumu taps a finger thrice against his hand right back at him. _We’ll be just fine._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me staring at my word document: Did I just write a love story or a coming of age story?
> 
> Well, folks, it’s done! I wanted to show a bit of Atsumu’s perspective without switching POVs, and I thought returning to that talk show would make it come full circle. I’m so happy for Omi. I wanted to show how good an impact that an accepting presence can have in one’s life.
> 
> Fun fact: After I wrote this in its entirety, my violin mentor sent me a music sheet of “Beauty and the Beast.” While I was practicing that, it occurred to me that the song FITS SO WELL with this story. I changed the title at the last second, right before posting the first chapter. It was initially titled “High off of love.” Or something.

**Author's Note:**

> In this universe, V. League lasts from October to January. The actual V. League (like IRL) actually runs from October/November to March/April. So uhh, let's just pretend lol


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